Crazy for you
by Paintedcherryblossoms
Summary: An AU story of a different life for our favourite couple. Molly and Charles have just arrived in London from Sydney. It's a big move, and Molly is uncertain it was the right choice. But with a new world to get used to, she hasn't time to worry. Yet as Charles's hours grow longer and the their time together briefer, she wonders why they moved at all. Then the texts arrive...
1. Chapter 1

I pulled a heavy box marked "miscellaneous" toward me and peered inside. It was full of photo albums. There must have been ten of them, all overflowing with photos of our life together.I opened the first. There was a photo of me and Charles on holiday together in Cyprus. It was almost painful to look at - we were so happy. Charles was beaming at the camera tanned and fit. Beside him, I was a lot paler than usual and covered with a heat-rash. Why he hadn't dumped me then and there was a mystery.

I couldn't believe how young we were in the photos , young and carefree. Well if I was honest, I looked a bit hot and bothered. I really didn't need to get heat-rash on my first foreign holiday with my boyfriend. Who wants to have sex with a girl who hides in the shade wearing a Burkha? The other hotel guests kept asking if I was allergic to the sun as I sat under the umbrella in my big floppy hat, sipping cold wine. While Charles surfed,water skied and paraglided in the burning sun, I waved encouragingly from my permanent position under a large parasol, surrounded by books and a bottle of rose. Life was good.

I turned the pages of the album. There was a photo of us on our last night in Cyprus- the night Charles proposed. I was absolutely radiant and bronzed by then (the miracle of fake tan). We were so happy and in love. I rested the album on my lap and gazed around the empty, soulless room. Where were those two people? When had life got complicated and daunting?

I flicked forward to our wedding day. Wow! Look at my waist! So slim. I was at least two sizes bigger now. I'd have to lose that extra stone this year. I wanted to get back to that slim girl. I wanted to go back to that day. I wanted to be relaxed and joyful again.

Sighing I flipped forwards to the photos of Alexei. I stopped then, overcome with emotion. There was one of us at the airport, coming through the arrivals door, holding our precious Russian angel. My sister Liz must have taken it. You could see mum running towards me, holding a bunch of enormous 'congratulations' balloons. Alexei was fast asleep on my shoulder; Charles and I were exhausted but elated. I looked closer: Mum was crying and so am I. Remembering that day still brought tears to my eyes. I peered at Alexei's sleeping face, the baby boy from Russia who saved my sanity and gave me the gift of motherhood.

I shuddered, remembering how I had shouted at him yesterday when he had vomited all over me instead of into the bag I was holding for him. The plane journey from Sydney had been a nightmare. Alexei had thrown up several times and then his little sister Lara had decided to join in. I thought we would never get to London. But we did.

The room was still dusty in spite of my best efforts. All of the windows were open to air the house, but it still smelt stale and stuffy. I'd have to scrub it from top to bottom. The walls were painted magnolia and the floors had that cheap, rope like carpet that rented houses tended to go for because it was low cost and hard-wearing. There weren't many aesthetic touches in this place. The carpet felt rough and scratchy under my toes. I'd buy some big rugs to cover it. I looked around and sighed again. It would take a lot of work to make this house into some kind of home. It was so drab and bleak.

Panic rose in my throat. 'Stop it Molly,' I scolded myself. 'It's not a big deal. People move all the time. Charles is happy about his new job. Be supportive. Don't show him how you really feel.' But he wasn't here now. He'd taken the children to the park to leave me in peace to unpack - or to get away from me, my snapping and shouting and general grumpiness. I found it hard to hide my feelings, but I was trying.

It isn't easy to give up everything that you love. I'd said goodbye to our house in Sydney, which I'd spent years after our big move from Bath, making into a perfect home. I'd left behind all my friends and family again - although truth be told, my younger sister and parents lived in Bath and my brother in New York, but still I had left my friends. And I'd given up a job I loved. It was all for Charles, for his new job, for his career, for his well being and happiness. I wanted him to be happy, of course I did, especially as he'd been so miserable since the last job fiasco, but I didn't really know anyone in London now and it felt like starting all over again. The problem was I'd loved my old life . Alexei and Lara were happy at their play school and everything had been perfect. Well OK. Not perfect. The last six months had been far from perfect. They'd been really stressful, actually, but now I was afraid. What if London didn't work out? What if Charles didn't succeed? What would happen to us then?

I looked at another photo to try and calm my nerves. It was one of Charles and me at Emma and Kit Brady's wedding in Bath, about four years ago. We're all standing arm in arm, heads thrown back in laughter. My best friend marrying Charles's best friend - how perfect was that? We'd all had so much fun together. Their wedding was also the day I found out I was pregnant with Lara, our little miracle. Such wonderful, happy times. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

When I told Emma we were uprooting and moving to London, she said it would be the making of us, that we'd have all this quality time together as a family and that it would get us back on track. I wasn't so sure about that. We been here exactly nineteen hours and I felt desperately lonely and homesick.

I pinched myself in exasperation. 'Get a grip, you dramatic cow. You're a forty year old mother of two. Make the most of this new adventure. Work at it,focus on making it a success. Turn this strange house into a home. Make your marriage work. Be nice to Charles. Be positive. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Forget your troubles- come on, get happy...blah blah blah.' The positive rant wasn't working.

My phone rang. I could see from the caller ID that it was my mother. I hesitated then answered it.

'And they call this summer!'

'Hi, Mum.' I crossed my legs and propped my chin in my hand - if it started with a complaint, it could go on for some time.

'It hasn't stopped raining all week. Honestly the weather in this country is a farce. We'll be getting a toonami next, mark my words. I've never seen such rain. It's all that global warning.'

'It's "tsunami" and "global warming" , Mum.'

'That's what I said. And, let me tell you, putting your newspapers in a green bin isn't going to stop the ozone layer burning us all to death.'

'I thought you said the tsunami was going to kill us?'

'It'll be one or the other. Your father has me demented, dividing everything into separate bins. He now has a compost heap in the garden. Did you ever? This is a man who has only ever given nature a cursory glance while pounding around the golf course. Now he's insisting that banana skins and tea bags and God knows what else go into this big pot he has on the windowsill. It stinks out the kitchen , not to mention looking awful. Honestly, Molly, he's getting very peculiar in his old age.'

I knew from experience that there was no point in interrupting my mother's flow. I put the phone on loudspeaker and got up to continue unpacking.

After another ten minutes of me mainly making the odd noise to acknowledge I was still on the other end of the phone she finally paused. "Anyway that's enough about that. How are you? All unpacked?'

I sighed. 'No I still have about twenty boxes to go.'

'Well, chop-chop Molly. Charles needs a nice home to come back to after work.'

'Thank you, Mum. I'm going as fast as I can.' I childishly made faces at the phone - this was the kind of behaviour my mother often reduced me to.

'It's important that a man wants to come home to his wife, Molly. Put a smile on your face and make the most of it. London is an exciting place to be.'

'But what if it doesn't work, we can't go back to Sydney?' I said, finally admitting my biggest fear.

'If it's doesn't work out, it doesn't and you will do something else.' Mum said, re-assuring as always. 'Life isn't straightforward, Molly. You should know that by now.'

'I am aware of it. I have an adopted son and I have just moved country again for my husband's job. Straightforwardness isn't something I expect or demand.'

'Marriage is all about compromise,' announced the woman who has never compromised in her life. 'You just have to get on with it. London is your home now. Make the most of it. Life is a long and bumpy road.'

I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I loved Mum to bits, but she wasn't exactly a soft shoulder when you needed one. 'All right, Mum, thanks for checking in with me. I appreciate it. Charles will be back from the park soon, so I'd better go and sort out dinner.'

'Well look after yourself and call me if you're feeling lonely or want to talk.' The phone clicked and she was gone.

Life had certainly been bumpy lately. I hoped it would be smoother now that we had made the move. But what if it wasn't? I tidied the photo albums away into the cupboard. I had to leave the past behind. Those carefree days were over long ago. I had to focus on out future, whatever that might be. Smile, Molly, I ordered myself. Everything will be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Have a chunk of this written so thought I would get the first few chapters up to kick things off. Hope you enjoy. Nearly got some other chapters boxed off for NY NY so will sort that soon - thanks for your R &R, always very much appreciated. It's good to be back - Painted x**

The doorbell rang. I looked through the peep-hole. Thank God, it wasn't the journalist, only Liz. I opened the door to see my younger sister dressed like some kind of over-the-top rock star at ten in the morning. She was wearing dark sunglasses, skin tight jeans, six-inch heels and a tank top, with Dolce & Gabbana emblazoned across the chest.

'Subtle top, Liz. And in case you hadn't noticed, it's cloudy so you don't need the shades.'

'Out of the way.' She pushed past me, wheeling a suitcase behind her. 'What time is the photographer coming? You need a lot of work.'

'Thanks! The journalist from the London Evening Standard will be here to talk to Charles at half ten, and they're going to do the photo about eleven.'

'Thank God for that. I'll need a full hour. Now, for the love of God, make me a cup of coffee, will you? I'm really hung-over.'

'Morning Liz.' Charles came in and kissed her cheek. 'You're looking very...last night,' he said, with a grin.

Liz grinned back at him. 'You're right, Charles, these are last night's clothes.'

I spun around. 'Where did you stay?' I asked, hoping Liz wasn't sleeping around. She had to grow up. At twenty-seven, she needed to calm down, stop shagging random men and meet a nice guy.

'Chill, Molls, I crashed in a friend's house,' she drawled, sticking her head into the fridge, then drinking orange juice straight from the carton. 'A very cute, randy friend,' she added, giggling.

Before I could tell her off, Charles stood in front of me. 'How do I look?' He asked fiddling with his tie.

He looked very handsome. He was wearing his one and only suit - dark navy with a blue shirt and red tie. I noticed he was thinner. The suit was a little too big for him now. His brown eyes searched my face for approval. Where had my confident, self assured husband gone?

I went over to kiss him. 'You're gorgeous. Even cuter than when I first met you.'

He smiled, relaxing.

'You look like and accountant,' Liz said. 'You should lose the tie. You're a rugby coach, not a banker.'

'Ignore her,' I told him. 'You look very distinguished.'

'Thank you, darling.' He squeezed my hands; his palm was sweaty. 'Right. I'll leave you two to it. I want to go over my notes.'

As Charles walked out, the children came running in. 'Auntie Liz!' They squealed, when they saw her, and charged over.

Alexei and Lara adored Liz, because she talked to them as if they were adults. She never censored herself in front of them. She said exactly what was on her mind and the kids loved that. She also bought them completely unsuitable presents. For Christmas last year she had given Alexei a huge toy machine gun and Lara a big case filled with make-up, glitter, stick on nails, plastic earnings and bracelets.- a true treasure trove of girly junk.

Of course, I was the one who got shot by the little balls from Alexei's gun, and it was me who had to clean up the glitter that Lara stuck to all the furniture and cushions in the house. But they all got on well, which I liked, and the children brought out a nicer side to Liz. She genuinely cared about them. In fact, they were probably the only things she gave a damn about, apart from herself and her career.

Liz held up her hands to stop them. 'Hey, kids, what have I told you? Never call me "Auntie". I'm far too young for that. Just because your mother is ancient doesn't mean I am. Remember, I'm thirteen years younger than her.'

Lara put up her arms. Liz checked her little hands were clean, then lifted her up for a kiss. 'My God, you get more beautiful every time I see you. Not as beautiful as me, but still you're going in the right direction.'

Putting Lara down, she turned to Alexei. 'So shorty, what's up? Have you grown?'

Alexei nodded proudly. 'Three centimetres since I saw you.'

'Well, you won't be playing basketball anytime soon, but I suppose it's something. Now I've got a treat for you.'

'What is it?' Their eyes were wide with anticipation.

Liz pulled a box of Smarties out of her bag. Great, I thought, just what we need: sweets to make them hyper when there's a journalist on the way and we'd like him to see a nice, normal family.

They shrieked with delight. Liz handed the box to them. 'Run for your life, before the witch here gets hers hands on them and let's you have just one each.'

As they ripped open the box, I turned to my sister. 'Thanks so much. They'll be bouncing off the walls now.'

'I know, and their teeth will fall out and I won't be the one bringing them to the dentist and paying for fillings, blah blah blah. Come on Molls, live a little. It's a box of Smarties, not crack cocaine.'

I decided to change the subject. 'Did you ask your work people about Putney? Do any of them know the area? Any advice or tips for me? We'd been in Putney three days now, but I still had no real feel for the place.

Liz reapplied her lip-gloss while the children gorged themselves on Smarties. 'It's where all the boring people with kids live so you'll fit right in.'

"Gee thanks. I'm so glad to hear that,' I said, giving her a fake smile.

'Seriously,' she said, looking around, 'this place is depressing. All the houses on the road look exactly the same. I don't know why you didn't listen to me and get a cool loft in Soho.'

I shook my head. 'Because lofts are for people like you- young, selfish and single - not for some one like me who has two small kids. I need a garden so the children can run around in circles and tire themselves out instead of trashing the house.'

'Fine, whatever.' Liz polished off her coffee and ordered me upstairs for my make-over.

The suitcase, it turned out, contained a whole bunch of outfits Liz had borrowed from the wardrobe department at the TV show she presents. An hour later, having managed to squeeze myself into one of the fifteen dresses she'd brought, I was ready.

'Give us a twirl,' Liz said, and I obeyed. 'If I say so myself, I did a damn good job. Green is definitely your colour. It goes with those disapproving eyes - and, with the super-suction Spanx, the dress actually looks like it fits you properly.'

I heard the bell ring, and Charles opening the front door. He was greeting a man - it must be the journalist.

I studied myself critically in the mirror. My make-up was good, at least I was able to do that myself, and the dress was very flattering. Liz had insisted that I wear six-inch heels, to make my legs look thinner, and I had to admit that, although the shoes were torturously uncomfortable, they made a big difference. I smiled at myself. I was pleased with the overall result. I really wanted to look good for this photo. I knew it was important to Charles. He was determined to make sure his new job went smoothly and a good first impression was vital. He was still haunted by what had happened with the Australian team, and I knew he was determined not to put a foot wrong this time.

We went back downstairs. I still hadn't dressed the children, who were running around like lunatics in the garden in their pyjamas, high on sugar. I was waiting until the very last second to put in their freshly pressed clothes. Charles's interview was in progress. Liz and I watched them through the glass door that separated the kitchen from the living room.

The journalist was dressed very casually in a crumpled shirt and chinos. He was younger than Charles. His dictaphone lay on the coffee-table between them, but he was taking notes as well. Charles was sitting bolt upright on the couch, his hands clasped together in his lap. He seemed very tense.

'Are you worried you'll end up like your predecessor, out on your ear after nine months?' the journalist asked him.

Nine months! Charles hadn't told me that. He'd said the previous rugby manager hadn't worked out, but he hadn't mentioned the very brief timeline. Would we have to move again in nine months? Would anyone hire him if this job didn't work out, just like the last one? My stomach twisted.

Charles smiled stiffly. 'I'm planning to bring all the experience and success I had coaching in Australia to London. I'm confident I can turn this team around and have a long and fruitful career with them.'

'But your last position as assistant coach for your last Australian team, ended after only six months. What makes you think this will be different?'

'Ouch,' Liz muttered. 'Look at Charles's face.'

Damn! Why the hell had the journalist brought that up? It was so unfair. It hadn't been Charles's fault.

Charles crossed his arms and frowned deeply. "The last Australian position didn't work out because of a clash of personalities between the head coach, Franco Green and the Australian Rugby Federation. Unfortunately I was a casualty of that disagreement. The only reason I was let go was because of the new coach they hired, Jackson Hadley, wanted to bring his own assistant coach with him.

'Good answer,' I whispered.

'Yes, but his body language is really defensive,' Liz whispered back.

Charles was sitting with his arms still tightly folded across his chest. The Australian job fiasco had really knocked his confidence . I hated Franco Green with a passion. If he had just been a little less pig-headed and got on with managing the team, none of this would have happened and we'd be back home in Sydney, living our lovely life, and Charles would be his old self-assured and contented self.

'He's going to have to be tougher,' Liz said. 'He should tell the journalist to stick his stupid questions up his arse.'

'Keep your voice down!' I warned her. The last thing Charles needed was the journalist to hear insults being slung at him from the other room.

'Seriously, Molly, Charles needs to grow bigger balls. He can't go round being defensive and poor-me about his old job. It didn't work out. He should put some kind of spin on it and make it sound like he walked out on them, or he was keen to move back to the UK, or something.

She had a point. He'd need to be smoother and more polished for future interviews.

There were several more questions before they seemed to be wrapping things up, Charles tilted his head for me to come through. I took a deep breath and slid through the gap in the glass doors.

'Joe, this is my wife Molly.' I proffered my hand and plastered a smile on my face, but something caught my eye: it was Liz, waving at me from the doorway. 'Psycho smile,' she mouthed. 'Tone it down.' I tried to relax my facial muscles into a less alarming grimace.

Joe Kendall smiled at me and I couldn't help feeling like a mouse in a snake pit. 'OK. Well, thanks very much Charles. I'll just pop out and ask Eddie to come in for the photos now.'

Charles and I shook his hand, exchanged a relieved glance, and I ran out to wrestle the children into their clothes.

While the photographer was setting up, I watched Lara and Alexei sitting beside Charles on the couch. Alexei looked adorable in his little blue shirt. With his fair hair and bright blue eyes, he would have melted anyone's heart. And as for my little princess, she had inherited Charles dark brown curls, chocolate pools for eyes and his killer smile. When she smiled, two big dimples appeared,one on each cheek. It was adorable.

I marvelled at my two beautiful children and silently thanked God for giving me the gift of motherhood. Although my infertility, Alexei's adoption and then Lara's premature birth had been really difficult times, there was never a day went by when I didn't feel grateful that it had ended like this. These two children were my miracles, and I appreciated them all the more for having struggled so hard to have them.

As I watched my beautiful little ones snuggling into their dad's arms, I willed myself to be positive. We were a family, a unit, a team, and together we would make it work. I shook my hair over my shoulder and shot the most convincing smile I could manage at the camera lens.


	3. Chapter 3

Several days later, when I had cleaned the house from top to bottom, hung the paintings and bought a big rug for the living room, I decided it was time to make an effort with the neighbours. I really needed to make some friends before the children started nursery school so I wouldn't go mad with loneliness.

I called into the house on our left, but there was no answer, so went to the house on our right, number seven. I rang the doorbell. A supermodel opened the door. She was tall, slim, tanned, with cascading blond hair and blue eyes. She was wearing teeny-tiny denim shorts and a bikini top.

'Yez, can I 'elp you?' She asked, in the sexiest French accent this side of Bridget Bardot.

'Hi I'm Molly. I've just moved in next door. Do you live here?'

'Yez, I am the au pair of theez family.'

'Oh, right, OK.' Thank God for that. I didn't fancy befriending a mother whose thighs were the same width as my middle finger. 'Is the mum around?'

'No, she eez shopping. She like to shop very much. I think she will be back at about five o'clock, but I am not definite about theez.

'No problem. Will you just tell her I popped over to say hi?'

'OK.' The supermodel closed the door.

'Mummy, she looked like a princess!' Even Lara was impressed.

'I know. But she's not the mummy, she's the minder.' I didn't want Lara thinking that any mother looked like that.

'I want a minder like her,' Lara said.

'Come on, let's go home and have some ice-cream.' I wanted to distract Lara from the stunning au pair. I wanted to distract myself from her, too - she had reminded me of someone I'd rather forget.

I'd always felt really secure in my marriage. Charles was solid, steady and devoted to me. He was very English - reserved and measured - and had always liked my lack of restraint and impulsiveness. I felt safe with Charles. But then one day, about five months ago, I'd called on him at work at the training ground. I wanted to show him a painting I'd bought. When I arrived I saw him talking to a young woman. She was wearing tight leggings and a team sweatshirt - not very flattering, but you could tell she had a killer body underneath. Even from a distance, I could tell he was trying to impress her. I could see how animated he was. He was telling some story and she was laughing hard. I knew it couldn't have been that funny, because Charles is no comedian. She had her hand in his arm and she was leaning into him and her was leaning towards her, too. You could tell from a mile away that they liked each other. There was an intimacy about them that stopped me in my tracks.

Liz did point out that it wasn't as if I had found him having hot sex with someone in the storage cupboard, but I still felt sick. I could see he was flirting with her. You know when your husband fancies someone...because he acts the way he did when he used to fancy you.

When I came up behind them, Charles jumped and then went a bit red in the face. He hadn't been expecting me and was suddenly flustered. He introduced me to this Mandy person. She was at least ten years younger than me and a whole lot more pert. Her boobs still stood up and her face was almost devoid of lines.

I put out my hand and shook hers very firmly - if I'm being honest, I crushed it a bit. Well, a woman has to stand her ground. I wanted Mandy to be under no illusion as to who she was up against. 'And what do you do, Mandy?' I asked.

'I'm a physio,'she said, shaking her bouncy ponytail.

'Really? And how long have you been working with Charles?'

'About two months,' she said. 'He's been so great to me, showing me the ropes and making sure I feel included in the squad. And he's so funny- you must laugh all the time at home. You're so lucky.'

Two months! Two months! This flirtation had been going on and Charles had never mentioned any new physio coming into the squad. And who the hell was Mandy to tell me how lucky I was? And Charles wasn't that funny. He could be amusing sometimes but not hysterically so, like she was making out. I was furious and, actually, I felt threatened and suddenly very insecure.

'Well, I'd better go. I'll see you later at training. Charles. Nice to meet you, Melissa.'

'It's Molly,' I said.

'Oops, sorry.' Mandy bounced off, leaving me seething with a shifty-looking Charles.

I turned to my hilarious husband. 'So how come you never mentioned Mandy before?'

He shrugged. 'What's to say? She's one of the physios, that's all.'

I glared at him. ' i think there's a lot to say actually. She seems to find you very amusing. Apparently you went out of your way to make sure she felt at home. You seem to have taken a very keen interest in her.'

Charles dug his hands into his tracksuit pockets. ' I always try to make new people feel comfortable.'

'Oh, she seems very comfortable to me. You're doing a great job there. She looks very at home.'

'She's a good physio and fun to be around. All the guys love her.'

I bet they do, I thought grimly. 'Is this right? Well, bully for her.' I tried to keep my voice neutral. I didn't want Charles to see how rattled I was. I wanted to be calm...but, unfortunately that is not my nature.

'Do you fancy her?' I blurted out.

'No.' He was avoiding my eyes.

'Oh, my God, you do. I can see it in your face.' I was shocked. I'd never been remotely worried that Charles would meet someone in work, because 99 per cent of the people he worked with were men. Besides I hadn't imagined he fancied other women any more. I'm not saying he didn't think some women were good-looking or sexy...but actively fancy them? No. I'd never seen him like this with any of our female friends or his colleagues' wives or anyone else we socialised with. Charles was always polite and charming, but never flirty.

'For goodness sake, Molly, don't start making a drama out of nothing. She's a new colleague I get on well with.'

'Very well, by the look of things,' I muttered.

'She's easy to work with. There's no crime in that,' he snapped.

I opened my mouth to protest, but decided to shut it again. He was annoyed and defensive. I didn't want to push him right into Mandy's arms. I needed to step away and think about what to do. I changed the subject and tried my best to be breezy, but it was difficult through gritted teeth.

For the next month I'd watched Charles like a hawk and popped in at different times of the day, to visit him at work. I checked his phone and his laptop when he wasn't in the room, but didn't find anything. As Liz said it was probably just a little flirtation, and there was no harm in it. But I didn't feel so blasé. A flirt can lead to a lot more if it isn't nipped in the bud. A flirt means your bored at home. Happily married men don't flirt.

Charles got more into sex in the weeks that followed my meeting with Mandy than he knew what to do with. I cranked it up big-time - new lingerie, scented body lotion, candles and even some dirty talk. Charles seemed very pleased and participated enthusiastically. It ended up being fun for both of us. But I had been shaken by what I'd seen. I realised that I needed to make more of an effort at keeping our marriage interesting and fresh. And although most nights I just wanted to put on my fleecy pyjamas and eat chocolate biscuits in bed while watching bad reality TV, I had to remember that there were two of us in our relationship.

Then, of course Charles had been fired and Mandy was no longer an issue as our life was turned upside-down.

As I walked the children back to our house, I resolved that this was the night to christen our new home. I'd bought a black lacy body in Sydney, before we left, and I was going to root it out, open a bottle of wine and give Charles a little reminder of why he'd fallen in love with me.

I was lost in thought, planning my evening, when I heard, 'Hey, Sis. Hey, Shrimp. Hey, gorgeous.'

It was Liz, climbing out of a taxi, looking amazing, with perfect hair and make up. She was wearing a ballet-length, halter neck red dress.

'I know, I look ridiculous. This dress is so conservative, but they've had complaints about me showing too much flesh on the show. Apparently some frigid cow in Devon thought it was disgraceful to have so much cleavage and thigh on view on an afternoon show. I bet her husband loved it and she just got the hump with him ogling me.'

I never ceased to wonder where Liz got her confidence. It was colossal. I wished I had half of it.

'You should consider wearing clothes that don't show off so much flesh more often. You look much nicer and less available,' I noted, behaving every inch the older sister. But, then, it was true.

'I've come straight from the studio to give you the good news. I'm the best sister in the world and you can grovel at my feet.'

I put my key in the door and ushered the kids through the kitchen and into the back garden. 'Go-on- I'm waiting with bated breath'

Liz threw her enormous bag onto a chair. 'I've only gone and got you a job!'


	4. Chapter 4

I've only gone and got you a job!'

'The make up artist on our show just handed in her notice. Before they had a chance to start looking for someone else, I said they had to hire you.'

'You're kidding! Really?'

'Yes, I'm not all bad, you know. Anyway they asked about your history and blah blah blah. I bigged you up, of course.

I said you'd worked for the best show on Australian TV and done all the celebrity weddings. So they said they'd give you a three-week trial, and if that works out, they'll hire you on a six-month contract.'

'But when do they want me start? What sort of hours? What about the kids?' I was thrilled and nervous all at once. It was too soon - I had so much to sort out. I'd have to get a nanny. How would I juggle everything?

Liz opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of wine. 'You start Monday week so you've got plenty of time to sort out your stuff.'

I sat down at the table. 'And the hours- what do you think they'll be?'

'Usually from about nine thirty or ten in the morning till about five, sometimes later, depending on how the show is going.'

'Will I have to travel?'

'Not really. It's mostly shot in London - we don't have a big budget.' Liz rummaged in the cupboards. 'Do you have anything decent to eat?'

Wow! A job so soon. It had been much easier than I'd expected. It would do me good to work, though. I wouldn't have time to dwell on the move or my loneliness. Plus I'd be earning my own money and hopefully I'd meet nice people, it was great. Except for one small detail: my sister was the star of the show.

As if she could read my mind, Liz, who had found a box of animal shaped crackers in one of the cupboards, said, 'obviously I'm the most important person in the programme so you can't try to boss me around or behave like my sister. You have to be super-nice to me and treat me with respect.'

'Can't I just ignore you?'

Liz waved a lion cracker at me. 'I'm serious. This is my show.'

'Isn't that what all presenters think until they're replaced?'

'I'm not going to be replaced. The public love me.'

I resisted the urge to laugh. 'Whose makeup will I be doing?'

'Mine, although obviously you won't have much work to do on me, and then you will have to do the guests we have on the show. Some are shocking looking, so you'll have your work cut out for you.'

'You have such a lovely way with words.' I held out my hand. Liz passed me a giraffe cracker.

'So are you in?'

'Absolutely. Now I just need to find a childminder.'

Alexei and Lara came running in from the garden.

'Guess what?' I said.

'We're going home!' Alexei ran around the kitchen, cheering.

'Yeah. I can go to Connors house for a play.'

My heart sank. The poor little guy missed his friends in Sydney so much. 'No, sweetheart, we're not going home, but mummy's got a new job.'

Alexei looked crestfallen.

'Is the beautiful girl going to mind us?' Lara asked, still dazzled by the au pair next door.

'No, Mummy's going to find a different minder.' One who looks like an old troll, I thought. An old troll with rotten teeth and severe acne so Daddy won't be tempted by her.

'Can I have a cracker?' Alexei asked Liz.

She shook the box. 'Sorry, short-fry, I ate them.'

'But I want one.' Alexei looked as if he was about to cry.' It's mean to eat them all. It's not fair.'

Liz laid her hand on his head. 'Listen, squirt, I've just got your mum a job. And if your mum has a job that means she makes money. If she has money, that means she can buy loads more of these crackers for you, and more toys and sweets and all that stuff, so don't give me a hard time. OK?'

Alexei nodded. 'OK.'

I couldn't believe it. If I had eaten Alexei's crackers, he would have had a complete meltdown, but the kids never freaked out with Liz. Maybe if the TV presenting dried up she should consider childcare. I smiled to myself. Somehow I doubted if any woman of sane mind would have Liz in her home.

'Right, amigos, I have to go. I've got a show to tape.'

After the children had had their snack, I decided to enjoy the lovely sunshine and sit outside on the patio. I wanted ten minutes of peace to read my magazine, so I told Lara and Alexei to do races up and down the garden. I was reading a really good article on why women are never happy with their bodies when Alexei pushed Lara. She fell down, scraped her knee and proceeded to scream like a banshee.

'For God's sake, Alexei, I've told you a million times not to push your sister.'

'Blood!' Shrieked Lara.

I examined her knee. 'No, sweetie, there's no blood. Now, stop screaming.'

'She pushed me first. I hate her!' Alexei shouted.

'Don't say that,' I snapped. I couldn't stand it when they were mean to one another. They only had each other in the world, and when Charles and I died, I didn't want them fighting and falling out. Because I had one adopted and one biological child, I was even more determined to make them close. Siblings had to look out for each other. I was close to my brother Sean, but he lived in New York now and was hopeless at keeping in touch. When we met up it was always great, but I only spoke to him about once every six weeks. As for Liz...when we were younger, the thirteen year age gap seemed huge, but we had got closer over the years, although she still drove me crazy and we did argue a lot.

'Apologise to your sister,' I ordered Alexei.

'No way.' Alexei crossed his arms.

'Alexei, I'm going to count to three and you'd better apologise or you'll be in big trouble. One...two...'

'Uhum, hello?'

I turned to my right. A woman was leaning over the fence, waving at me. Damn I really hadn't wanted my neighbours to hear me shouting at my children.

'Hello!' My neighbour said again.

I jumped up and went over. 'Sorry. Hi, I'm Molly.'

Close up, the neighbour was very pretty in a very natural way. Her hair was cut short and she was very tanned with bright blue eyes.

'I'm Claire. Claire Roberts. Number nine.'

I shook her hand. 'Nice to meet you. We've just moved over from Sydney.'

'How are you finding it so far?'

'It's fine, thanks. I've just been unpacking and getting organised, so haven't really had a proper chance to look around or meet people.'

'Who's this, then?' Claire pointed to Lara, who was peeping from behind my leg.

'Oh, sorry, this is Lara, she's three, and that's Alexei, he's four.'

'And three-quarters,' Alexei said, coming over to inspect the new person.

'Three-quarters is very important. Nice to meet you, Alexei and Lara. What beautiful names you have.'

'I'm adopted from Russia. My mummy says I'm her heart baby,' Alexei piped up.

'Wow, lucky you,' Claire said, smiling at him.

Alexei continued with his life story: 'Mummy said when she saw me in the 'orfnage', she knew I was her little boy. Her heart told her. Some babies come out of their mummies' tummies, like Lara, and some come in their mummies' hearts like me.'

I stroked the back of Alexei's head. I loved him telling people he was my heart baby. It made me want to weep with love and pride.

'Well it looks as if you've been filled in on our family history,' I said laughing.

'It's very heartwarming.' Claire had a lovely smile - very genuine. I liked her immediately. I could tell already that she didn't have any agenda or angles: she was exactly who you saw.

'Do you have babies?' Lara asked our neighbour.

'Lara!' I said, embarrassed. 'I've told you it's rude to ask people that.'

'It's OK,' Claire reassured me. 'Actually, Lara, I have two boys.'

'Are they big or small.' Lara asked.

'Terry is nine and Freddie is seven, but he's so tall so everyone thinks he's nine, too. They've gone to the park with their granny. Why don't you come over and I'll show you the garden?' Claire suggested.

'Thanks. We'd love to!' I was delighted to be getting some quality time with someone new. Claire definitely seemed like my type of person, so hopefully we could be pals.

We got into her garden via the side entrance to her house. I was stunned. What Claire had achieved with a fairly small space was incredible. I couldn't believe the variety of fruit and veg she had managed to plant and grow. I had killed every plant I'd ever owned, including a cactus, ad they were supposed to live forever.

'Carol this is amazing! Have you been working on the garden long?' I asked.

'Ever since we moved in ten years ago.'

'Well you've done a fantastic job.'

'Cooeeee!' A voice called from behind us.

I turned to see a tall, rake-thin blonde woman tottering down the side entrance. She was wearing skin tight jeans, a jewelled, fitted kaftan and the most enormous sunglasses I'd ever seen - they covered three quarters of her face.

'I saw you from my window so I thought I'd pop around. The side gate was open, Claire. I presume you're our new neighbour?' She asked me.

'Yes, I'm Molly.'

'This is Poppy - she lives at number seven,' Claire said.

'Oh, right, hi, nice to meet you.'

'We wented to your house and sawed your beautiful minder. She's like a princess,' Lara told Poppy.

Poppy smiled at her. 'Aren't you a cutie? Yes Sophie is gorgeous. I like looking at pretty things. I couldn't have anything ugly in my house - it would depress me.' Turning to Claire, she said, ' I honestly don't know how you can sit in this garden - it's like being in the middle of a muddy field.'

Claire laughed good humouredly. 'This garden means that we don't eat awful processed food full of additives.'

'I prefer Valium and white wine to food. It helps me deal with my life.'

Well, well. One of my neighbours was growing enough veg to feed half of London and the other was a lush. London certainly wasn't boring.

'Are you having a tough time?' I asked.

'Nigel, I thought, was the love of my life darling. Left his first wife for me after we had a passionate affair. And then once he had married me there was, as they say, a job vacancy for a mistress. The bastard left me for his secretary - don't talk to me about cliches. So in our divorce I got half of half, which, let me tell you, was not a lot.'

This was fascinating. I felt positively boring next to this tale of woe. 'How long had you been married?'

'Seven years. And the bastard had the audacity to have an affair and leave me, and our two sons, for a woman who is fatter than I am and uglier. So you see, darling, I need my pills.'

I tried not to laugh. Poppy seemed more upset that her rival was unattractive than that her marriage was over.

'What age are your children?' I asked.

'Six and four. I got my tubes tied after I had Charlie.'

'Alexei's four. Maybe the boys could come over and play some time?'

'Anytime. You can keep them if you like,' she said, with a wicked grin.

'Actually, speaking of kids,' I said, suddenly inspired, 'I'm looking for a child minder. I'm starting a job soon. Do you know of any good local nanny agencies?'

'There's an agency in Putney High Street called Nanny Solutions. But actually now I think of it , my cleaning lady mentioned that her daughter's looking for work. She's nineteen or twenty, Irish girl. I'll text Maggie when I get home and let you know. Maggie's fantastic, so kind and trustworthy. I'm sure her daughter will be a decent girl.'

'That would be brilliant.' I was delighted with how things seemed to be falling into place - first the job, now the child minder. 'Thanks so much.'

I could see Alexei and Lara in the corner, digging a hole that didn't look like it belonged. I jumped up. 'Thanks, I'd better get the children home.'

'Give me your number and I'll call you as soon as Maggie let's me know about her daughter.'

Later that evening when the children were alseep, Charles and I sat on the couch chatting. I filled him in on my new job offer and the search for a nanny.

Charles was clearly relieved. 'That's wonderful, Molls. I was worried that you'd seemed a bit lost since we moved here. Now you'll be busy and ready to give London a go.'

I bristled. 'Well it hasn't been easy.'

Charles raised his hands in mock surrender 'I know, and you've been amazing. I just think a job will get you out and about and you'll have fun.'

'Well, I don't know how much fun I'm going to have working with Liz, but it'll be a distraction and maybe I'll meet nice people. It'll be good to earn some money too. Now I just need to find someone to look after the children.'

'I like the sound of the Irish girl. It's always good to have a personal recommendation,' Charles said.

'I agree. I'm nervous about going back to work so soon. The kids won't have me around to settle them properly into school.'

Charles put his arm around me and I snuggled against his chest. 'Don't worry Molls. They'll be fine. Kids are very adaptable. They'll have new friends in no time. We just need to find a nice girl to look after them, and you'll be home to put them to bed and read them stories. They'll still see plenty of you.'

'I know Lara will be fine, but Alexei...'

Charles sipped his wine. 'My brother and I went to boarding school when we were seven and it did us no harm. Alexei will be fine. You musnt fuss about him so much. He needs to learn to stand on his own two feet and fight his own battles.'

'I don't fuss.'

Charles looked at me, arching an eyebrow. 'Molly, you worry about him all the time. Constantly. There's no need. He's a great little fellow who is perfectly well able to make new friends and get on at school.'

Grudgingly I admitted to myself that he had a point. I did worry too much about Alexei, but he was different from Lara. He was shier and quieter, I could see he was out of sorts with the new house, and now there was a new school to get used to now as well.

Charles put his glass down and stretched. 'God, I'm stiff.'

'How come?' I asked.

'I probably overdid it a bit today, trying to show them all that I'm as fit as they are. I think I'll just watch the training session tomorrow.' He rubbed his shoulder.'I really need to get this right. I have to make an impression with the first few games.'

'Any gorgeous physios?' I asked lightly.

Charles shot me a look and then shook his head.

'So, no bouncy Mandy-types for you to ogle?' I kept the tone light, but I wanted him to know that I hadn't forgotten and that it was not OK for him to flirt with people at work.

Charles took my face into his hands and looked into my eyes, then he kissed me. 'No, Molly, and you know that you are the only woman that I want to ogle.'

'I'm very glad to hear it.' I smiled relaxing. 'Speaking of ogling, check this out.' I flashed the strap of my lacy underwear. Charles's eyes lit up. 'I think it's about time we christened this house.'

Charles grabbed my hand and pulled me up. 'I thought you'd never ask!'


	5. Chapter 5

I realised that I needed to get my skates on, find a nanny and get everything sorted. I began to panic. I called Poppy for advice. She was really helpful and gave me the names of a few more websites. Plus she told me she had spoken to Maggie, her cleaning lady, and that Maggie's daughter, Aislin, was available for work, and even better, had previous experience in childcare.

By Monday afternoon I had lined up three interviews for Wednesday. The first two were coming through the agency in Putney, a Spanish girl called Elena, who was in her early twenties, and Betty a local woman, who was fifty three. I had arranged directly with Aislin to meet her too. I was secretly hoping the Spanish girl would work out and that all four of us would be speaking Spanish within the year. Wasn't that how Gwyneth Paltrow had done it? If it was good enough for Gwyneth...

Charles had muttered something about me handling it all, but I wasn't having that. I insisted he interview the prospective nannies with me, arguing that it was important to have two perspectives on the candidates. Hiring a nanny is never straightforward. You want a paediatric nurse who cooks like a Cordon Bleu chef and has Blue Peter-type arts and crafts skills. But you don't want her to be so wonderful that your children end up preferring her to you. You want someone who is smart enough to handle any crisis that may come along while you're at work, but you don't want someone telling you how to raise your children. You want someone who is firm with the children, but not bossy or stern. You want someone who will give the children hugs, but not too many. You want someone who will keep the house tidy, but not spend time vacuuming when she could be teaching them the fine art of origami.

The problem is you want someone who loves and cherishes your children as much as you, but who will not take your place. That's why grandparents make the best child minders, because they love the children as much as you do, but they don't want to be parents again. At the end of their minding, they're happy to hand them over.

I made a list of questions I wanted to ask, things I felt would reveal the candidates' true personalities and help me make the right choice.

On Wednesday morning, Charles sat in his tracksuit, jiggling his legs and looking at his watch. Elena arrived very punctually at nine thirty. I flung open the door, ready to love her.

Elena was drop-dead gorgeous and wearing a very short, tight sundress with no bra. I took one look at her and knew there was no way this stunner was getting the job. I opened my mouth to tell her to go straight home, but then I thought it would be rude, so I reluctantly invited her in.

Charles was texting when we walked into the room. When he looked up and saw Elena, he dropped his phone. He actually dropped his phone - I couldn't believe it. It landed with a thud on the floor. My decision never to hire Elena or anyone who looked like her was confirmed when I saw his face. What was it about older men and young girls? The men turn into complete idiots around them. I'd seen it at work all the time when young models entered the room and every man over forty would drool as they walked by. It was harmless, but at the same time a bit pathetic.

Women didn't do that. Mind you, I had found myself lusting after Taylor Lautner in the Twilight movies. I was appalled when I found out he was only twenty when he'd made the first. I felt like a dirty old woman but he was very hot...

Charles jumped up. 'Very nice to meet you Elena. Please have a seat.' He led her to a chair. 'Can I get you a drink?'

'No, Gracias, I am fine.'

'Are you sure? It's no trouble at all,' Charles persisted.

'No, thank you.'

'Not even a glass of water?'

'Charles! I snapped. 'She's not thirsty.' I turned my attention to the pretend interview, and asked Elena about her childcare experience.

'Well, I love chil-deren. I am having the brothers and sisters at home in Espana and I am playing with them all day.'

'That sounds fantastic,' James enthused.

I glared at him, but he was too busy staring at Elena's chest to notice. I tapped the information sheet the agency had given me. 'It says here that you are currently with a family in London. But you've only been with them two months and you want to leave. Why is that?'

Elena looked down. 'The mummy is not very nice to me. She say mean things to me.'

'That's terrible,' Charles said, his voice dripping with sympathy and indignation at her plight.

'What kind of things does she say?' I asked.

Elena pouted. 'That I am taking too long in the shower and that I am too slow ironing the clothes and that I am bad at the cooking.'

Was this girl really that stupid? First, she turns up for an interview in a skin tight mini dress with no bra on and then she proceeds to complain about her current employer.

'She sounds like a very difficult woman,' Charles said, as if he'd like to go and give her a piece of his mind. 'I can assure you, there will be none of those unpleasant comments if you work here.'

'Are you a good cook?' I enquired, before Charles jumped in and offered her the job on the spot. I could see her now, prancing about in her teeny-tiny skirts, spatula in one hand and Spanish olive oil in the other. Over my dead body...

Elena shrugged. 'I am OK. I can make the toast and the scrambly eggs.'

I suddenly had the urge to laugh. This girl should be on a TV show. She was ridiculous. 'What about ironing? Are you slow?'

'Molly!' Charles interrupted. 'I'm sure Elena is a perfectly good ironer. Besides, there's not a lot of ironing to do here.'

Charles turned to Elena and smiled. 'I wear a lot of sports gear, you see, because I coach a rugby team.'

Elena's eyes widened. 'I am loving the sports. I like to jogging very much.'

'I can see you're very fit.'

'Charles!'

'What?'

'Inappropriate!'

'Maybe you could 'elp me be more fit.' Elena beamed at him.

I'd had enough of this girl. She could go and flirt with someone else's husband. I stood up. 'My husband will not be helping you with your fitness regime. Now it's clear that you are not remotely suitable for this job.' I frog marched Elena to the front door. 'Thanks for coming, but let's not take up any more of your time. I would suggest you wear jeans and a jumper to your next interview. Mothers do not appreciate nipples. Bye now.'

By the time Charles had got to the door, it was closed. 'That was very rude,' he said.

'No, Charles, staring at a young girl's cleavage and dribbling is rude.'

'I was not.'

'Oh yes you were, and if you think for one nano-second that you think I would have her going for late-night jogs with you and doing lunges in the front room, you've another thing coming.'

Charles flexed his muscles 'I was looking forward to showing her some of my moves.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'What moves? The diving-on-the-couch move? The flicking-the-remote-control move? Or your piece de resistance, the opening-a-can-of-lager move?

Charles grinned. 'Very witty darling, I'll have you know that I've been training with the team every day. I'm feeling much fitter.'

He looked it. For a man of forty-three, Charles was very attractive. Sometimes I wondered what he saw in me. When I was dressed up I looked good, but day-to-day I felt plain. People, mostly my mother, were always telling me how handsome and charming, Charles was and it made me feel paranoid. I felt as if they thought I wasn't worthy of him, as if he'd somehow married beneath him, punched below his weight.

I made a resolution. It was time for me to lose the extra weight I'd been carrying and shake up my wardrobe. London was a good place to start. Liz could help me pick out some age appropriate but edgy clothes. It would be easier to diet once I started work. No more home-made flapjacks for the kids- the majority of which I ended up eating. As soon as I started work it would be a skinny latte on the run and a low-fat yogurt for lunch.

As Elena left, the next candidate, Betty, arrived for her interview. The minute I saw her, I felt I had found the perfect nanny. Betty was primly dressed in a long-sleeved blouse, sensible navy slacks and scholl sandals. She was the kind of woman who wore a strong bra and big pants. There was no fear of Charles running away with her. She was more vicar's wife than femme fatale.

'So, Betty, you said when we spoke on the phone that you have experience in childminding,' I said, after we'd done the introductions.

Betty nodded, placing her handbag on her lap. It was like one of those handbags the Queen carries - a black square with a big clip on the top. 'I do Indeed, Mrs James. I've raised my own four children and I've been a nanny to two other families since. One had three children and the last family had two, like you.'

I loved being addressed as Mrs James: it was very Downton Abbey. I could get used to this. I pictured Betty bringing me breakfast in bed on a big wooden tray with legs. She'd place a linen napkin across my lap and pour my cup of Earl Grey. Then she'd open my curtains and set my clothes out for the day. It would be lovely...

'Excellent, and what kind of things would you do with the children to keep them occupied?' I asked.

'I believe that children need a strict routine. The problem with this country is lack of discipline in the youth. Mark my words, if children today had stricter parents, none of this looting and rioting would ever take place.'

Charles banged his knee with his hand. 'I couldn't agree more, Betty.'

Hold on a minute. I was not happy with the direction the conversation was taking. I didn't approve of slapping or smacking or the wooden spoon, or any of that kind of discipline. I was no saint, I regularly shouted at the children and I wasn't proud of it, but I did not approve of physical violence and I certainly wasn't about to hire someone who did.

'Oh Mr James,' Betty gushed, 'It's so nice to meet a young man who isn't afraid to spank his children. The way some children speak to their parents, these days, it'd make your hair stand on end. I even heard a child in the park yesterday telling his mother to shut up. He couldn't have been more than six. I tell you if my children had ever spoken to me with such a lack of respect, I'd have given them a good wallop on the bottom and they'd never have done it again.' But all this woman said was "Don't be rude." That child will grow up to b a sociopath. A good smack would have sorted him out.'

I was liking Betty less and less by the second. I did not want to come back from work to find Alexei's bottom black and blue. 'Hold on!' I interrupted. 'Let me be very clear here, Betty. There is no spanking in this house. Ever.'

'Except between consenting adults.' Charles winked and, despite my best efforts to remain in serious interview mode, I began to laugh.

Betty didn't crack a smile.

The third interview was with Aislin. She was small with thick brown hair tied back in a ponytail and nice blue eyes. She wore no make-up and was dressed in track suit bottoms and a baggy t-shirt, which made her look younger than nineteen. I was very glad to see that she was wearing a bra and, unlike the previous candidates, that she didn't look as if she wanted to either sleep with Charles or beat up the kids.

So Aislin, where are you from in Ireland? I asked.

'I'm originally from Carrick-on-Shannon in Leitrim, but I moved to London with my mum a year ago.'

'Why did you decide to come here?' Charles asked.

Aislin blushed and looked down at her hands. 'Well...the thing is...you see...I...' She hesitated, flustered.

'It's all right, take your time,' I said, wondering what on earth she was going to say. She seemed very upset about her reasons for leaving Ireland. I hoped it wasn't anything sinister.

She took a breath. 'I was bullied in school. It got really bad last year so my mum decided it was best to take me out of school before my finals and start a new life over here.' She blushed.

'That's terrible. You poor thing.' I felt really sorry for her- I could see how upset she was. She seemed so young and fragile.

Aislin nodded. 'It was awful. The other girls made fun of me because I didn't have expensive clothes or a cool phone.'

'Girls can be cruel.' Charles was clearly feeling sorry for her too.

'Yes. There was also a teacher who was really mean to me.'

What kind of school had she been in? 'A teacher? But that's shocking. Did you report them?' I asked. She shrugged. 'Yes, but no one believed me. The headmistress took his word over mine. He said I was imagining it, so my mum said it was best if we left.'

Charles asked Aislin about previous childminding experience. 'I worked in a local play school when I first moved over. It was maternity cover, but then the lady came back and I was let go. I loved working with the kids-they were brilliant. I have a reference from the lady who runs the play school.'

She handed Charles a copy. She seemed much more at ease now. She'd found it hard to tell us about the bullying, but I could see she was actually quite a capable girl.

Charles and I read the reference together: Aislin was helpful, kind, patient and, although she was quiet, she was very good at interacting with the children, especially the younger ones.

'Great reference.' I handed it back. 'The job will also involve doing some light housework and cooking simple meals for the children. How does that sound?'

Aislin smiled. 'No problem'

'Perfect' I smiled at her. I liked this girl. I looked over at Charles, who winked and nodded his approval.

'OK Aislin, you're hired!' I said, holding out my hand to shake hers.

Aislin jumped from her seat. 'Really?' She grasped my hand eagerly.

'Absolutely. I want someone nice taking care of our children.'

'Wow! I'm so thrilled! Thank you.' Aislin blushed again.

'Can you stay for a bit? I'd like you to meet Alexei and Lara.'

Charles stood up. 'I'm sorry, but I really have to go. Nice to meet you, Aislin.' He held out his hand. She shook it shyly.

I walked Charles to the door. 'Do you think she'll be Ok?' He kissed me in the forehead. 'She seems nice, a bit shy but she'll be fine. Now I really have to go, should be home by about six, love you!'

'Love you too!' I waved him off and closed the door.

'Now Aislin, let's introduce you to your new charges. Welcome to our home!'


End file.
